What I Really Want
by signpost
Summary: One-Shot. Meyer's arm has healed, and he wants David to go back to school. How can David tell his parents the real reason he wants to stay a newsie? (Jack/David)


**Disclaimer: Except within my too-fertile imagination, none of these characters belong to me.  Sniffle.**

Laughing, David took the stairs to his family's apartment two at a time.  He wasn't always in such a good mood after work, but it had been a particularly profitable day and Jack had left him outside the apartment building with a particularly ribald joke.

He was still chuckling to himself as he let himself through the door, thinking of the punch line:_ "...So the pirate said to his first mate, 'that's nothin', ya should see the ship's parrot!'"  When he turned around, it was clear that the rest of his family was in a very good mood too.  Sarah was sitting in the rocking chair, winding a ball of yarn with an ear-to-ear smile on her heart-shaped face, Les was standing on top of the bed, waving his wooden sword around, and his father and mother were waltzing around the table.  As his father dipped his mother, he saw David in the doorway._

"David!" Meyer said.  "Welcome home!"

"Thanks, Papa," David grinned.  "It's nice to come home when everyone's in such a good mood.  Oh," he hastily added, pulling the jangling coins out of his pocket and proudly laying them on the table, "here's today's profits."

After the results of his hard work were sufficiently _ooh_ed and _aah_ed over, David pulled a chair out from the round kitchen table and sat down.  "So, what's so happy around here?" he asked curiously.  Then his blue eyes grew wide as Meyer displayed a mended arm that was no longer in a cast.  "Papa!" he said excitedly.  "Your arm's all better!"

"It's still somewhat stiff," Meyer said deprecatingly, but clearly not upset in the slightest.

"No, that doesn't matter.  That's _great_!" David jumped to his feet to give his father a hug.  The general good mood made much more sense now.  He hated to admit it, but his father's injury had put a lot of stress on the entire Jacobs family the last few months, not least because Meyer hated sitting at home and being useless.  David had even slept at the Newboys Lodging House a few nights, just so he wouldn't wake in the middle of the night to his father's unhappy pacing.

After giving his mother a hug too, for good measure, David sat back down, his grin a twin to the one Sarah wore, though she was clearly trying to stay seated, calm and ladylike.

"That's not all the good news," Esther added.  "Your father went down to the factory today, and they gave him his job back."  Still swinging his sword around on the bed, Les _hurrah_ed.  Esther turned her head.  "Off the bed, Les, dear," but she made no complaint when he didn't budge.

"They just gave it back? Like that?" David asked, amazed.  He quickly amended, "I mean, it's wonderful, but I would have thought that it would have been harder – that you would have had to fight for it."

Meyer chuckled.  "I suppose your recent experiences have made you a bit wary, David.  But no, it wasn't hard.  I went down there and told them that I'm still the best glass maker they've got, and they agreed.  I start work again tomorrow."

David shook his head happily.  "Oh, Papa, think what this'll do for our finances.  With all of us except Les working, we'll finally be able to really start saving money."  There was a moment of silence.  Esther worriedly looked at Meyer, who coughed and cleared his throat.  "What?" David asked, feeling the good mood begin to evaporate.  "What is it?"

"We discussed this before, David." Meyer said carefully.  "My arm's healed, and I'm back to work, which means that it's time for you to go back to school."

"What?" David asked stupidly.  The grin started to fade from his face.  His hands, lying flat on the table, twitched.  

"Les went back to school two weeks ago," Meyer said.  "David, you knew that you couldn't get out of it forever, right?"

"What?" David repeated stupidly.  He wanted to say something else, but his mind seemed to have stopped working.

"David," Esther said gently, "a boy your age belongs in school."

"But – but—" He shook his head hopelessly.  "I _can't! I – I thought Les went back because Jack and I were making plenty enough.  Papa, Ma – I just can't."_

Esther and Meyer shared a glance.  David could almost see them thinking, _Oh dear, we just knew he'd be difficult about this._  With a heavy sigh, Meyer sat down at the table opposite David, and Esther stood behind him with her arms on his shoulders.  David was vaguely aware of Les sitting down on the bed, youthful exuberance fading, and of Sarah self-consciously burying her head in her work.

Meyer began quietly.  "When I first hurt myself, David, we discussed this as a family.  We all agreed that you would only work until I could support the family again.  You agreed to it too, as I recall."

"Yeah, but that was before I knew—Papa, you know what school is like for me."  David looked hopefully at his father.

"I know school isn't fun, son, but you can't expect it to be."

"Don't you understand, though?" David asked, the first note of anger entering his voice.  "I'm _happy_! I'm happy doing what I'm doing, and now you're asking me to give it up and go back to being miserable.  They like me, Papa, the newsies _like_ me for who I am.  They don't make fun of me or hit me."

"They're nice boys, David, and I'm glad you've found friends.  Going back to school doesn't mean that you have to cut them out of your life.  You can spend time with them after classes and homework, can't you?"

Feeling sick, David stared at the table.  How could he hope to explain to his father that a newsie's day _was selling papers? It wasn't as if they had breaks or playtime, or an end to their work day until night fell.  He licked his lips and forced his hands to lie flat on the table as he bent forward and looked beseechingly at his father.  _

"Papa," he said pleadingly, "look at the table.  _Look at that.  Count it.  It's over a dollar and a half, and that's just from one day, a good day, yeah, but nothing special.  I've brought in close to forty dollars over the last month.  Don't you realize how _good_ that is? If, if Jack and I keep selling together, I could keep bringing in money like this, maybe even _more_.  Don't you know what that would mean for us? We could save money, we could buy better clothes, maybe we could eventually even move someplace bigger, where we'd have more than two rooms for the five of us.  If I go back to school, we can just forget about that.  Papa, _think_!"_

"David—"

David scraped the silver coins on the table into his hand and shoved them towards his father's face, his hand trembling.  "Look at that, Papa," he repeated, his voice an octave higher than usual.  

Meyer put his hand on top of David's and gently pushed it downwards till it was resting on the tabletop.  "David, I see the money.  This isn't _about money.  Look at your mother and me, David.  We're not stupid people, but we're not working good jobs.  We make enough to keep food on the table.  Our family doesn't have many luxuries, but we do get by."_

"But _that's what I'm—"_

"David, let me _finish.  Your mother and I, we didn't finish school.  We can't get good jobs, not the kind that we'd want.  We work these difficult jobs for the three of you: for Sarah, for Les, and for you.  We just want you to have more choices than we did."_

"But Sarah's not in school," David said, waving a limp hand in his sister's general direction.

For the first time, Sarah spoke up.  "I'm a _girl, David.  I can't expect to find much better of a job than Ma or Papa, no matter how hard I try.  Jobs aren't there for girls.  It's different for you."_

"Yeah, it's different, all right," David said angrily, "so why don't you just stay out of this?"

"_David!" Esther exclaimed.  "Apologize to your sister!"_

He muttered an apology towards Sarah, though his feelings towards his sister were far less charitable than his parents would hope.  Then he turned his attention back to his father.  "Papa, please just listen," he begged, hating himself for the lump in his throat and the tears just waiting to well up in his eyes.  "I like working.  I like making money and helping this family.  But it's more than just that.  This is the first time in my life I've ever felt like I was making a difference; don't you remember how proud of me and Jack you were during the strike? Jack was the leader, but it wouldn't have happened without me.  And look what we managed! We changed things for newsies all over the city, didn't we? And who knows, maybe for children all over the city! For the first time, I actually had faith in myself.  That's all over the second I walk through the schoolhouse door."  He paused, hearing in his mind's eye a conversation between himself and Jack.  

_"We don't need you! _We _don't need _you!_ 'Cause all those words you said... they were mine."  _

_"Yeah, but you never had the guts to put 'em across for yourself, didja?"_

_ "I do now." _

"And it's not even just that either, Papa," he continued, blinking hard.  "I've found something that I've never had before, never felt before."  He froze, knowing that he couldn't say the rest, that he shouldn't have even started down this particular path.

"What's that, David?"

"A – a – a—" An image of Jack's lanky figure with his red bandanna and quick smile flashed in front of his eyes.  He wanted to put his head down and sob, but his father was waiting for him to finish.  "—a best friend," he managed to choke out, hating himself for it, but knowing it was the only way he could finish the sentence without causing even more trouble.

Esther moved around the table and put her arms around her eldest son, who hung limply in her embrace, miserable and just a whisper away from crying.  She looked helplessly at Meyer.

Meyer pursed his lips.  Knowing that David was listening, he said quietly, gently, "You always said that you wanted to be a journalist. Has that changed?"  There was no audible answer from David, but a quick shake of the curly head gave Meyer all the answer he needed.  "David, you know I want you to be happy, but do you want to sell newspapers all of your life?"  His eyes brimming, David glanced up at Meyer.  "How can you become David Jacobs, respected journalist, who changes the world in his own way if you don't even graduate from school?"

It was done.  David was beaten, and they all knew it.  His shoulders slumped, and he held his hands protectively over his face, but his shaking body made it clear that he was crying.

"It'll be all right, David," Esther said tenderly.  "They won't stop being your friends."

"Today's Wednesday? So you can go to work tomorrow and Friday," Meyer added kindly.  "You can tell them all then, so you don't just disappear with none of them knowing.  School can wait till Monday."

Pulling away from his mother, David stood up and stumbled towards the window.  He was still crying, but he made no noise, not even a whimper.  Though the world was blurry, he managed to open the window far enough to climb out onto the fire escape, slamming it down after him.

Les made as if to run after him, but Esther stopped him, saying, "He doesn't want any of us to see him like this.  Give him time, Les, dear.  He'll be all right."

******************************************************

David sat out on the fire escape, out of sight of his family, crying bitterly.  He was acting like a child, and he knew it, but he couldn't seem to make the tears stop.  It just wasn't _fair! He hadn't even been able to tell the family the biggest and most important reason for wanting to stay a newsie, because they just wouldn't have understood, not a one of them.  He lowered his forehead to his knees and sniveled miserably._

"David?"

Recognizing the throaty voice as belonging to his sister, he managed to mutter, "Go away."  She was the last person in the world he wanted to see right now.

Ignoring him, she gathered her skirt and sat down right beside him.  "It really won't be _so_ bad, David, really.  I'd switch places with you in a second if I could."

He didn't want her to know to what extent he returned the sentiment, so he only sniffled, "Why?"

"Because, well, you have choices.  I can keep working as a seamstress or I can quit and try to find another job.  We all know that I wouldn't ever be able to find another job.  But you, David, you're a leader, and you can do anything you want.  You want to be a journalist? You can do that with only a few more years of school.  Me? All I can do is get married."

David did not want to hear this at all.  "Go away, Sarah," he said through a new batch of tears.  "Just leave me alone."

She shrugged and rose to her feet.  "It doesn't mean that he'll be out of our lives.  He's your best friend and my—" She blushed.  "Don't worry, David.  Jack won't just disappear."  With that, she turned and walked back up the fire escape.

It was no good.  She didn't understand.  How could she? How could anybody? 

_What would they do if I went in there and told them how I really felt? Told them that I don't know how I got to feel this way, but that I love Jack more than anything in the world? That I would leave home forever just for the promise of a kiss from him?_ He pressed the backs of his hands hard against his closed eyelids, as if that would burn it all from his mind, but it only made him see flashing colors.  _If I did that, they'd look at me as if I'd suddenly sprouted a pig's tail, and they'd forbid me from ever seeing him again._

He hadn't understood it either at first.  The first time he'd ever seen Jack Kelly, he'd been beating up a couple of scabbers.  David hadn't understood it at all, and found him violent and arrogant.  But over the course of the strike, David had grown to see all of his good qualities: his resourcefulness, his loyalty, his charisma and kind heart, his willingness to sacrifice himself for others.  _For me._  And though it had horrified him at first, he'd also grown to see the strength of Jack's hands, the cuteness of his soft, floppy brown hair, the warmth of his eyes, how genuine his smile was, how quick his wit was.  _How could I have not fallen for him? David rested his head against the cold steel rail of the fire escape.  At first he'd fought it, not understanding why he was feeling this way about another boy.  Though he still kept it a secret now, it no longer scared him.  How could something that felt so natural, so wonderful, be wrong in any way?_

_Jack doesn't even know how I feel about him.  I can't tell him; he's with Sarah._  Unbidden, the image of Jack kissing Sarah during the rally came to mind.  He remembered vividly the rock that had suddenly seemed to lodge itself in his midsection, the tightness in his chest he had felt when he had seen that.  His face had kept smiling though._  And what would he say if he knew how I felt? He'd be disgusted and never want to see me again.  Being a newsie is the only way I can spend time with him.  It's not really what I want, but if it's the only way I can be with him, I'll be his best friend while he holds hand with my damned sister._

And now they were trying to take even that away from him.  He'd get to see Jack every now and again whenever he came to the Jacobs' apartment for dinner, but Jack would just spend the whole time paying attention to Sarah.  _The daytime, selling time, that's the only time when he's mine.  I've got nothing left now, nothing, and he's all I want.  All I really want._

He drew his knees up to his chest and pressed his forehead against him, choked with sadness.

************************************************************

If David had thought that night was horrible, the next morning was sheer torture.  He arrived at the distribution center pale and shaky, with puffy eyes and a twitching mouth.  Most of the boys gave him a wide berth, not wanting to get involved in anything potentially emotional.

"Hey, Mouth."  He turned to see Racetrack regarding him cautiously. 

"Hey, Race," he said back, choking down the lump that seemed to rise in his throat every time he spoke.

"Everything ok?"

"Yeah, yeah."  David turned his back, having made his way to the front of the line.  Laying down two bits, he recited, "One hundred papes."  As usual.

The headline was nothing special – something about politics as usual – but it could have announced the end of the world and it would have made no difference to David today.  He was too busy searching the crowd for Jack and trying to look like he wasn't.  His hands started to grow sweaty with worry in the cool September morning.  Where was Jack? Usually he was at the front of the line, but today he was nowhere to be seen.

After determining that Jack wasn't in the distribution yard, he strolled out of the gates with his papers on his shoulders, trying to look casual.  Still no Jack.

Horrible thoughts began to thunder through his mind.  _Maybe he went to see Sarah, and he found out what a baby you were.  Maybe he's so disgusted that he doesn't want to see you.  Or maybe he just finally put two and two together and realized that you... love him.  And now he hates you.  David stared blankly into the distance, his eyes wide and tragic, yet somehow managing not to cry.  _Or maybe it's even worse.  Maybe he got mugged or hit by a carriage, and is lying somewhere bleeding to death.__

"Dave?"

_Or he got arrested for something – Snyder's gone, though, so it probably can't be that.  It must just be that he hates me.  How could he not know, the way I look at him? He must know.  And he hates me._

"Dave? Daaaave?"

He snapped out of his reverie to find Jack crouching right in front of him, a concerned look on his face.

"J – Jack," he managed, wiping a hasty hand across his eyes.

"What's goin' on, Dave?" Jack asked.  "Are you all right?"

"Yeah.  Yeah, I'm all right.  It's just – I'm all right."  He took a deep breath and grabbed his newspapers from the ground next to them, where they'd fallen unnoticed.

Jack looked at him suspiciously.  "I come round the corner to see you sit, though it was more like a fall, flat on your rear and drop your papes, stare at nothin', and not even see me when I'se right in front of ya.  That don't sound so all right to me, Dave.  Don't sound like that to them, neither," he added, nodding behind David, who turned to see several of his fellow newsies a few feet away, all looking at David and trying to pretend they weren't.

After an embarrassed silence, Mush finally said, "Jus' that we'se your friends, Dave, and we takes care of each other when we're down..."

"Here," Jack said, "Dave, let's, you and me, go somewhere and talk, yeah?"

"But, but, but," David stammered, "the papes – We gotta sell –"

"We been sellin' good lately," Jack said firmly.  "We can take twenty minutes off."  He paused, then continued, "But the rest of you'se gotta get to work.  Those papes ain't gonna sell themselves."

With shrugs and a few whispers amongst themselves, the newsies dispersed.  Soon, it was only Jack and David.  David couldn't even bear to meet Jack's eyes.

"C'mon, Dave."  Jack grabbed his arm and hoisted him to his feet.

"W—where're we going?" David asked, not quite sure what was happening.

"Jus' back in that alley over there.  It's quiet."

So David obediently followed Jack into the alley.  Once they were out of sight of the casual passerby, he slumped against the wall and let himself slide to the ground.  Jack joined him.

"So what's the problem, Dave?"

David loved how Jack said his name.  It wasn't just plain "Dave" when Jack said it.  It sounded kind of like "Daef."  Somehow, it sounded special.

Realizing that Jack was waiting for him to say something, he cleared his throat and said in a voice that still sounded suspiciously gruff, "I have to go back to school.  Papa's arm is all healed up, so I have to stop working."

Jack blinked.  "...Oh."

"So I'm going to have to spend all of my time in school.  I won't get to see the guys anymore, and I won't get to sell papes with you.  I have to go back to school and let the other boys beat me up and let the teacher call me 'Davey' and tell me that everything I do is wrong."  Jack merely nodded silently.  "D—don't you see, Jack? These last three months have been the best I've ever hand, and once Monday rolls around, I have to go back to being the unhappy incompetent misfit."

"Well, Dave," Jack said finally after a long silence, "you don't have to put up with that stuff no more.  You was a strike leader and you escaped from police and even tried to bust me from the joint.  You'se not incompetent.  If you was, you couldn't've done all that.  Let those bums think what they want.  They don't matter none.  And if they try anythin'," he grinned slightly, though one corner of his mouth seemed to not want to hold the smile, "you'se learned the art of soakin' from the best."

David leaned his head back against the brick wall.  "That still doesn't change the fact that I won't get to spend any time with you anymore."

"You can always just come sell the afternoon edition with me, y'know, Dave."

Dave looked at Jack.  "Huh?"

"Ya didn't think of that? Classes don't last all day, right? So when they'se done, jus' come here; they'll be handin' out the afternoon edition of _The World, and you can sell it with me."_

"I can?" David looked at Jack in sudden hope.  Why hadn't he thought of that? It wasn't as much time, and school would still be horrible, but all hope might not be lost.

"Yeah.  And afterwards, we can go to your folks' place for dinner."  Jack smiled mischievously at him.

David's heart suddenly plummeted again.  "Oh, yeah.  I forgot.  You'll want to see Sarah, huh?"

Jack looked at him sideways.  "That sad look on your face, Dave.  That's ain't still 'bout school, is it?"

"What do you mean?"

Jack looked at him, then at the ground.  There was an extremely long moment of silence.

Finally, Jack seemed to come to some sort of decision.  Biting his lip and looking younger and more vulnerable than David had ever seen, he slowly leaned over, then quickly leaned in and kissed David on the lips.

It wasn't much of a kiss; it was really just a quick brush of lips across lips, but it was more than enough to cause David's heart to nearly tear through the front of his shirt.  His mind went very fuzzy for a moment, not quite comprehending what had just happened.  Feeling as though everything were happening very slowly, he pivoted towards Jack, who was staring even more fixedly at the ground than before, every muscle tensed.

"Jack?" David asked timidly.

"T—that was what I meant, Dave.  If it was 'bout that, not school."

"I..."  Suddenly feeling humiliated beyond belief, David lurched to his feet, a single tear spilling from his eye to fall and absorb itself into the fabric of his collar.  He closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to look Jack in the eye.  "I'm sorry, Jack, I should have told you before, but I was just scared.  I'm sorry that you had to do something you didn't want to do to get me to tell you the truth, and the truth is that I love you, but I know you don't feel that way back.  I thought that if I could just be your friend and have a little of your time, that would be enough, but it just wasn't.  I'm sorry, Jack, really sorry, I swear, I didn't ask to fall in love with you.  I'll—I'll just be going now, I guess."

Trying to ignore the difficulty he was having breathing, David turned and started to trudge towards the end of the alley.  His heart was pounding so loudly in his ears that he didn't even hear Jack calling after him.

After a minute, a faint voice forced its way in his ears.  "Wait! Hold up, ya idiot!"  He wasn't sure whether to stop or not, but by then it didn't matter, because a strong hand had grabbed his arm and swung him around.  He found himself staring Jack in the eye.

"Don't be _daft, Dave," Jack said, frustrated.  "You think I'd do somethin' like that if I didn't wanna?"_

"I don't—"

"I did it so I'd know for sure, Dave, and now I know, and does it look like I want you outta my life? Did I even for a second consider lettin' you walk away, huh?"

David was forced to admit that it didn't look that way.  In fact, it looked rather like Jack was going to kiss him again.

This time, though, it wasn't just a breath of a kiss.  It was desperate and deep and seemed to last forever.  Afterwards, gasping for breath, head spinning, David grasped Jack's shoulders tightly with white-knuckled hands, as though he'd fall if he let go, and started crying against Jack's shoulder.  And impatient Jack, Jack who always wanted something else to happen, something that was bigger or better or brighter, Jack just put his arms around David and let him cry.

"Y'see," Jack murmured quietly, "I kissed you 'cause I had to know if... If you felt the same way I been feelin'.  I been goin' crazy, Dave, tryin' to figure out if you jus' wanted me to be your friend, or somethin' else.  And I didn't even hope that it was somethin' else, 'cause you was always so... normal."  Still crying, though he didn't know why, David felt a sudden absurd urge to laugh.  "When you looked so upset out there, I thought that maybe you'd figured out how I feel, and you was upset about it.  But then back here, I started to think..."

Finally, David managed to bring his tears mostly under control.  "Jack, you're saying you... You like me too?"

Jack snorted.  "Dave the Mouth needs to learn to listen, don't he? What've I jus' been sayin'?"

David blushed.  "I'm sorry, Jack, I was listening, it's just that I never even considered that you might—"  He paused.  "What about Sarah?"

"She's your sister, ain't she?"

"You know darn well that she's my sister," David said, confused.

"No, you ain't listenin' again.  She's _your_ sister, ain't she?"

"Jack, are you saying—"

"I'm sayin' that I did what I done with Sarah so I could stay close to you.  I thought... If she was your sister, maybe she'd be lots like you and I could just pretend that—" He broke off at the incredulous look on David's face.  "Wasn't the right thing to do, but I still done it, huh?"

David pulled away slightly.  "_What_ exactly have you done with Sarah?"

Jack shrugged with a lopsided grin.  "After kissin' her at the rally? Not much, Dave."  David released a breath he hadn't even been aware he'd been holding.  "See, Dave, I convinced myself that it wasn't bad, but once I realized how I felt, I couldn't make myself do it no more."

David laughed weakly.  "I forgive you, Jack.  Just don't do it again, all right?"  He paused.  "What're you going to tell Sarah? For that matter, what do we tell my family?"

"I'll talk to Sarah," Jack reassured him.  "Bet she's already got a fair amount figured out, though.  Your sister's not as dumb as she looks."  He stopped talking, realized what he had just said, opened his mouth as if to correct it, then just shrugged and kept talking.  "As for your family, they love you, Dave.  If they can't accept you as you is, you jus' come and stay with me at the Lodging House.  If that doesn't happen, though," he added, "I think you should go to school."

"But—"

"C'mon, Dave, at least one of us has gotta grow up to be rich."  David couldn't help snickering at that, and he really liked the way that Jack ruffled his hair when he bent his head so as to not laugh in Jack's face.  

Suddenly nervous that he would destroy the moment, but needing to ask, David ventured, "So, Jack, what do we do now? Where do we go from here?"

The two boys stared at each other, neither one speaking.  "Well, we could always jus' go and sell some papes for now, huh?"

"Yeah.  Yeah, let's do that."  David slowly let go of Jack and bent down to pick up his papers.

As they walked side-by-side towards the end of the alley and the bright sunlight, David couldn't help getting lost in his thoughts after all that had happened.  What exactly _were_ he and Jack to do now? He hadn't minded much that Jack hadn't felt like answering that particular question right away; he didn't much care to worry about the answer right now either.  But he knew for certain that it was a question that would need to be answered sooner or later.  

_What'll come of me and Jack? Will anything come at all? Will it last, or will we both do what we're doing right now and try to pretend that our lives didn't just change back there in that alley? After all, for a few minutes, he was mine, entirely mine – but could we ever really hope for more than a few moments here, a few there, afraid that someone would find out?_

"Jack," he said tentatively, "let's not talk to my family just yet.  Not till we decide what we really want."  The grateful nod he received did nothing to help him make up his mind.

_It's all so strange... I thought that if this ever happened, I'd be so happy that nothing could touch me; instead, we're both terrified.  But somehow now, even if nothing happens with us, I think I'll be all right in school.  After all, once classes are done, I can come sell the afternoon edition with the boys – with Jack.  And we'll use that time to figure out what we want.  What we really want._

**Author's Note: Well, this is an example of a story that turned out very differently in type than it was in conception.  For example, it wasn't intended to be slash at all, and it was going to end with a scene of David sitting in school acting like a smarmy little bitch towards the bastard teacher.  And then once I realized how slashy it was going to be, I was going to have an ending with David never actually saying anything to Jack and ending up alone, which is much more realistic.  Somehow, though, it turned out being all slashy and angsty, and the ending is more reminiscent of _The Graduate_ than anything else.  I guess that after the first few pages, I just didn't have the heart to make poor David any more miserable.  So this is also an example of why I really should outline stories beforehand and not just sit down with a vague idea of a plot and start writing.  But I guess I'm not complaining.  After all, it proved to me that I could write slash.  It may not be good slash; it may even be horrendous slash, but at least I did it.  So go me... I think? **


End file.
